To the Storm
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Prequel to my Blake Adventures series. There, Jean and Lucien work together to solve mysteries as equal partners. Here's why.


**To the Storm**

 _December 1959_

About a month after she returned from Adelaide, Jean had finally felt truly settled back in Ballarat in her new life with Lucien. Most of it remained much the same, cooking and cleaning, managing his appointments and helping with his cases, generally taking care of the house and everyone in it. Mattie and Charlie were both initially excited but suspicious of her return, but they'd settled back into normalcy as well. Jean assumed they had figured out the reason Lucien had been away for a week on the day she left, and why they'd both been in much better moods since their return. But nothing was ever said about it, which Jean appreciated it.

For weeks, she felt like she had to walk on eggshells everywhere. She couldn't smile too much or hum while she cooked or dance around while she dusted in fear of being caught acting too happy for no discernable reason. She was terrified to let her guard down even when she and Lucien were alone, just in case Charlie or Mattie walked in and caught them sitting just a little too close, or, heaven forbid, in a romantic embrace!

Lucien had been ever so patient with her. She could tell he was disappointed, as she had been very eager, even brazen, with her affections when they were in Adelaide. But no one had been watching them there. No one to whisper. No one to make Jean feel like a fraud and a common, social-climbing hussy. Without her having to voice it, he seemed to understand. He'd respected her reticence.

And ever so slowly, everything started to feel normal. The way Lucien would come into the kitchen while she cooked and kiss her cheek. The way Jean would bring him tea in his study in the afternoons and sit on his lap for a cuddle, provided he wasn't in the middle of anything. Though more often than not, he'd suspiciously put his work away for a few minutes just so she would come sit with him. The evenings after dinner had become her favorite time of day, sitting on the sofa with her sewing and a glass of sherry with Lucien beside her, quietly reading and sipping his whiskey. When they were alone, the drinks and books and sewing were put aside in favor of more romantic endeavors until Jean or Lucien would come to their senses and insist they say goodnight. Usually it was Jean, in an effort to maintain a little propriety between them. But sometimes Lucien would catch himself getting carried away and put a stop to it before he couldn't.

One serendipitous night, Mattie was working an overnight shift at Ballarat Hospital and Charlie was in Melbourne for the week to visit his family. Jean and Lucien were all alone in the house.

They decided to celebrate. Jean had made a sumptuous dinner for them to share by candlelight. Lucien had gotten a bottle of wine to go with the meal and had insisted that Jean sit back and finish her glass while he did the washing up. She sipped her red wine and enjoyed the softness of the liquid in her mouth, lighting up her taste buds as it rolled along her tongue before sliding down her throat with that mild bite of alcohol. Lucien was saying something to her as he washed the dishes, but she wasn't paying attention. There was something very distracting about the way his arms and shoulders moved. The muscles strained the fabric of his shirt in a most beguiling manner.

"How does that sound?"

Upon seeing him turn and speak directly to her, Jean blinked back to reality. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

His eyes smiled more than his mouth did as he looked at her. "I was going to suggest we go to the parlor and have an after-dinner drink, but we don't have to if you're tired."

"No, I'm not tired," she insisted. She finished the last swallow of wine and went to the sink to put some water in it; she didn't want the remnants of wine to stain it, since she wasn't going to be doing any more washing until the morning.

Lucien watched her very closely. Something was different about her that he couldn't quite place. He was sure he'd seen her like this before, but when? She was happy, wasn't she? She'd seemed distracted. Jean wasn't usually one to have her head in the clouds. He worried that perhaps she was nervous over the fact that they were alone in the house; they had no one to police their behavior, other than themselves. Lucien had already promised to himself that he would defer to her in all things tonight. He'd only go as far as she wanted, even if it killed him. And after getting the bliss of kissing her and holding her in his arms for the last month or so, not getting to go any further might actually kill him. He'd never wanted a woman more in all his life. But perhaps that was because he'd never loved anyone as much as he loved Jean. And because of that, he'd wait a lifetime for her, if that's what she wanted.

Jean came to take Lucien's arm, and they walked into the parlor together. She held on a little tighter than normal. Yes, she was probably nervous. He began wondering how to make her feel more at ease.

"Sherry?" he offered.

"Oh yes, please." She sat down on the sofa and landed rather more abruptly than she'd intended. Everything felt slower than usual.

Lucien handed her the drink and went to put on the phonograph with some jazz records he knew she liked.

"I do love this song. You should sing it for me. You don't sing nearly often enough and I do love it when you do," she told him.

He smirked rather proudly. It was rare that she complimented him in such a specific way. "Care to dance?" he asked, offering his hand to her.

Jean drank down her sherry in two big gulps and put the empty glass on the end table as she stood up and took his hand. "I don't think we've ever danced together, have we?" she asked.

"I'm sure I'd remember if we had." Lucien had to catch her as she stumbled slightly on her way into his arms. "Are you alright, Jean?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Serenade me!" she commanded, a big smile on her face.

He led her in a slow sway as he sang along to the record. Jean beamed, reveling in the shiver down her spine as she felt his breath on her cheek, his voice lilting right at her ear and into her heart. When the lyrics of the song ended, he spun her around as the music faded out. She wasn't expecting it and spun out of his hand. She stumbled to a stop, her hips moving in a more exaggerated manner than normal. Jean got her balance and turned back to him, a bright smile on her slightly pink face.

And it dawned on him. "You're not nervous, you're drunk!" he realized aloud.

"What?"

"Now I remember why this seems so familiar. Though I'm glad you're much happier this time than last," he chuckled.

"Lucien, what are you on about?" Her brow furrowed threateningly.

He led her to the sofa and sat her back down gently before sitting beside her. "There was something about you that I couldn't place, and I think I accidentally got you drunk, I'm sorry."

"Well I'm not really surprised. The sherry and then half a bottle of wine and then more sherry? How you're still not showing it is beyond me."

"You had sherry before the wine?" he asked, concerned that perhaps his alcoholism was rubbing off on her.

"Yes, I had a glass while I was cooking."

"Oh dear, I am sorry, Jean." He paused and then asked, "But I am right in saying you're happier than last time, yes?"

She frowned. "When was the last time?"

He shifted awkwardly. "Ah, well, I believe it was when you were seeing that Robert chap. The director in your play?"

The memory returned to Jean rather swiftly. "Oh. Yes. I think I might have had almost an entire bottle of sherry that day."

"I remember the way you walked, taking that bottle up to your room. You have a very specific way you move…I'd never seen you drunk before. It was quite a different side of you. And not just your backside."

"Lucien!" she laughed, smacking his arm.

"Your hips are rather unmistakable, dear," he teased. "But that was so soon after Father died. You were still more apt to nag at me than anything else. Seeing you so loose was quite intriguing. But I know how upset you were, and it did worry me at the time. Mattie told me to be nice to you."

Jean wanted to roll her eyes but didn't. She had a feeling it would just make her dizzy. "Robert was going to propose to me and I knew I'd have to say no. Because I didn't want to leave this house. And you," she confessed. She continued before Lucien could say anything to that remark. "The biggest downside to getting drunk that night was not being able to suppress my own foolish mind when it came to you. And I still can't," she sighed. Jean's eyes were a little glazed as she reached out to run her fingertips from his shoulder down to his forearm.

"Oh?"

"Yes, I had to leave the room when you came home that night because I wasn't confident I could control myself. I mean, my god, look at you!"

His eyes went wide, sparkling with delight. "My dear Jean, are you saying you were attracted to me?"

"Mmmm," she hummed, still staring at his arm. How he'd never split the fabric, she'd never know.

"Even then? I thought I just annoyed you."

Her gaze moved up to his face. Very seriously she told him, "You annoyed me constantly. But that doesn't mean you weren't also the most incredible man I'd ever seen."

Lucien felt himself sit up straighter with pride. "If I'd only known…"

"I don't think that would have helped either of us. It certainly doesn't help us now," she pointed out.

He laughed, unable to resist taking her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. "Quite right. Oh, I do love you, Jean. I want to tell you every day how I care for you and how I know how lucky I am to have you. How you waited for an idiot like me, I'll never know, but I'll forever be grateful."

"I couldn't help it," she replied quietly.

"You never gave up on me. You still haven't, somehow. And please don't. Please don't give up on me," he said, taking her hands in his. Perhaps the wine was affecting him now, or maybe it was just the unexpected nature of her admissions about him. Knowing she…wanted him, even then, had struck him with the understanding of just how wonderful she was. "I honestly don't think I could live without you, Jean. Your strength and your support and your love. I'd be completely lost without you. You'd be fine on your own, Jean, but I can't bear the thought of ever being without you again." Lucien stopped himself, knowing he'd propose marriage to her if he didn't. He had plans for that. He didn't want to spoil it now, not while the ring was still being sized at the jeweler.

To his surprise, Jean frowned at him. "Why does everyone always think I'm so strong and fine all the time? Don't you realize? Before you came around, I was living a half-life. I was here and I was working and I had interests, but it was like being adrift in calm waters. Nothing good or bad or interesting. Just…existing." She clutched his hands even tighter. "And then you, you were like a typhoon, whirling the waters in the most terrifying way, changing everything I thought I understood. Lucien, no one has ever given me the kind of excitement I knew I always wanted. You opened doors in my life and in my heart that I never thought it possible to walk through. Loving you has turned into the most infuriating and incredible gift. And I know I'm inexperienced and naïve in a lot of ways, and you've lived so much more of a life than I have. I think it's more apt for me to ask that you don't give up on me. Let me follow you into the storm." It was probably the wine that had made her open up like this. Surely she'd hate herself in the morning when she sobered up. But she didn't feel any of the fuzziness of inebriation anymore. She felt sharp and clear, and her heart was pounding as she waited for him to reply.

He couldn't resist pulling her into his arms, holding her tight against him. He stroked her hair. "No, Jean. I don't want you following me anywhere. From now on, we go side by side, together, straight at whatever life brings us."

Jean realized what had just happened. In so many words, they had reached a new understanding about their relationship. This wasn't a frivolous romantic interlude for either of them; she'd known that since he'd gotten on the bus and followed her to Adelaide. But no, from here on out, she wouldn't just be his housekeeper or his lover or even his wife, if it came to that one day. No, she knew that this profession of love and need from him meant much more. She would be his partner. He'd always respected her opinion more than most men would with a woman. But this was more. He didn't just want her there, he wanted her with him in every sense. Perhaps the wine was affecting him too, but Jean somehow knew in her heart that Lucien meant what he said. They'd go into that storm side by side, equal in value, worth, and love.


End file.
